


Serpent's Teeth

by swampy (HeadedMints)



Category: JUDGE EYES: 死神の遺言 | Judgment, 龍が如く | Ryuu ga Gotoku | Yakuza (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, At least he's trying, Gen, Majima Everywhere (Yakuza), is majima a good parent? maybe, majima adopts a teenager mostly on accident but soon does it on purpose, vague kazumaji, with a bit of a twist, yakuza kiwami era, yakuza yagami
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29133399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeadedMints/pseuds/swampy
Summary: In 1998, fate changes - in multiple ways and for multiple people - when Majima Goro intervenes.
Relationships: Majima Goro & Kiryu Kazuma, Majima Goro & Nishida, Majima Goro & Yagami Takayuki
Comments: 21
Kudos: 48





	1. June, 1998

**Author's Note:**

> this is written for maybe two people, one of them being me... regardless, i thought the concept was very interesting, and i hope you can enjoy it as well!  
> thank you for reading :]

"Y'know," Majima breathes heavy, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He's a little winded, which is actually pretty refreshing. "You're pretty tough, for a little brat." 

The boy in question scowls from his place on the ground, face all bruised - some new, some old. His nose is crooked, obviously healed wrong before. Blood drips over his lips and teeth and down his chin, staining his shirt in dark splotches, his hair messy and hanging in his face. Majima finishes his assessment and decides that the boy reminds him too much of himself when he was young. 

"Not half bad." He sighs and straightens, abandoning any fighting posture. The hand at his back drifts away from his knife, tucked into his waistband. The boy watches the hand closely as it falls. "Can't say I ain't impressed - ya got some fancy moves." 

His opponent stays out of breath and speechless, brows drawn in a deep furrow, round eyes teeming with a red hot anger. Majima takes a cigarette from his nearly empty carton and holds it between his lips, slowly fishing for his lighter. The boy on the ground stares up at him in continued, unspoken distaste. 

The flame sputters in the cold, sheltered behind his hand and close to his face. He tucks his lighter away and takes a long drag, a deep breath in. 

"Listen, kid. People like you and me, we're born yakuza." Majima blows out a thin cloud of smoke, cigarette perched between two fingers near the knuckles. "Hell, it's in our damn blood. In the end... we ain't really got a choice, huh?" 

The boy finally whispers, growling through bloody teeth, "Sh - shut up!" 

"Okay, look, I ain't the type to beg. But you," He points his cigarette down in the boy's general direction with a laugh, "You seem like a real pain in the ass. Just the kinda guy I'd want running with me." 

The boy props himself up on his elbows, breathing heavy, mouth hanging open. He tries to wipe the blood from his face with the back of his hand and mostly fails, smearing it across his face. Majima recalls split lips and broken noses with similar results; though he wasn't half as serious at this age. 

Majima silently muses, idly rolling his cigarette between his fingers. The paper crushes beneath his fingertips. 

"Got an office up on Park Boulevard. Can't miss it," He says, and he almost considers handing out a damn business card. The boy looks up at him, now fallen silent again. Majima sighs, smiling a little gentle, dropping just enough of his manic exterior. "Oughta pay me a visit some time." 

For a moment, the boy's face softens just enough to make room for confusion. 

"You might end up yakuza either way, but," Majima shrugs, taking another long drag. He breathes in smoke, words riding along it, quiet against the loud city just outside the alley, "Least you'd have me lookin' after you, and not some random dickwad." 

"Why - why would..." He pauses, slowly looking around - as if trying to find a sign that the trick will suddenly end and he'll get a foot to the face. Eventually his gaze finds its way back to Majima, wide eyed, bloody teeth visible as his mouth hangs open, gaping for words. "What... do you want from me?" 

"Nothin'. Ain't anything you could give me, anyways," He laughs, softly. Something about this kid is hitting all his soft spots in all the right ways, somehow; he internally shelves a few choice thoughts about such a huge crack in the mad dog's brick wall of a personality. "Just givin' you some options. Christ knows you probably don't got too many." 

The expression on the boy's face is practically indescribable. He looks so lost and confused and open, face drawn up in tight lines, torn between hope and the dark opposite. Majima wishes he had thought about things half as much as this kid when he was younger. 

"Sleep on it, yeah? Try to drop by sometime." He turns towards the mouth of the alley with one last pull of his cigarette. Looking over his shoulder and looking the boy over one last time, Majima nods, "See ya around." 

His shoes click on the concrete as he heads out towards the street.


	2. October, 1998

Fall quickly begins to darken into winter, weather souring, coming on strongly cold and bitter. Majima's mood follows suit; this time of year is a sore spot, entire months permanently bruised by Kiryu's arrest and subsequent absence. So he sours, cold and bitter, sulking even as he makes his usual rounds. His men quickly learned in years past not to bother him too much from late October to mid December - as always, pain is an excellent teacher.

When the cold is starting to reach its worst and the first bad snow of the season falls, Majima arrives at the office early to find a boy standing at the door. It takes him a moment to place just who the kid is, red faced from the cold, but he realizes in the next. He tamps down his recent seasonal apprehension and tries to look as far from corpse - like as he can manage.

"So ya finally took me up on it, huh?" He says, tucking a gloved hand into his jacket pocket. Only now does Majima realize that the kid easily measures up, nearly as tall as him. Their poor postures almost match. He sighs and pats the kid on the arm, rummaging in his pocket for his keys. "Alright, come on in. M'not gonna talk shop out in the cold."

The boy silently follows, the only sign of him the rustle of his jacket and the quiet sound of his breath. Majima's heels click on the tile, sharply punctuating every squeak of wet rubber soles on the tile behind him.

"Now, if I were someone else, we'd share cups or some other stupid ceremonial bullshit. But I ain't," He shrugs, flopping down onto an ugly brown couch. The leather is worn and peeling despite it being relatively new. Majima leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, leveling his gaze at the boy standing smack dab in the middle of a yakuza office, completely out of place. "So, I'll just ask you somethin'. Easy enough to answer."

Majima looks the kid over and decides, judging by the lines in his face and the dim, familiar anger in his eyes, that he's probably no older than nineteen. Despite those lines and loosely bottled rage, he seems a quiet type. Hopefully he'll grow out of it soon.

"You ready for somethin' like this?" He asks, slow, voice deep and serious. He folds his hands together and the kid stays standing there, the same furrowed brow and mouth drawn in a thin line. He's still bruised, though in new places. The familiar anger shifts into his jaw. "You step into this, you can't just back out. This's your last chance at a normal life."

The boy is silent for a long time, motionlessly seething. His voice comes out bitter, "I am. Didn't have a normal life anyway."

Majima's not sure he wants to peel apart whatever broken home this kid must come from - most his boys don't come from the best places, which is honestly half the reason they're his boys, not someone else's. Most people don't seem to understand that the mad dog tends to pick up strays; and the whole family's better off if it stays that way.

"Y'know," Majima says, pushing that thought to the back of his mind to hopefully never be addressed again. "Don't think I ever caught your name."

"Yagami Takayuki." He says, just as firmly acidic as before. The name is familiar somehow, even if Majima can't put his finger on it. He pauses for a moment, then bows his head a little, stiffly adding, "...Sir."

Not even a minute in and he's already awkwardly adhering to protocol. Majima'll have to fix that sometime, unless he wants to end up with another Nishida - though something tells him Takayuki is cut from a different cloth. He leans back and throws his arms across the back of the couch.

Takayuki stares at him with hard, cold eyes, and Majima thinks twice; the boy standing in the middle of his office is a completely different breed than Nishida, a different animal than the Majima of '83.

"Oh, Boss! If I'd known you were going to be in... early..." As if on cue, Nishida swings open the door, trailing off once Takayuki's eyes land on him. He quickly blanches, sweating. Majima surpresses a grin, watching a punk fresh off the street death - stare the family captain. Nishida stammers. "Um... am I interrupting something..?"

"Actually, yer right on time!" Majima claps a hand on Takayuki's shoulder as he stands, shaking him a little. His jacket rustles beneath Majima's glove and the weight of his arm across his back, but he stays firmly rooted in place. "Been a while since we got fresh blood. Tell Kibe and the boys to take Yagami - kun here with 'em when they go for collections."

"Yes, sir."

"And tell 'em to play nice," He moves his grip from Takayuki's shoulder to Nishida's shaved head, patting him a few times, leather smacking against skin. He leans down and smiles, baring teeth, and cheerily adds, "Or I'll be takin' fingers."

"Y - yes, sir."

"Alright, I'm headin' out. Got a meetin' with Kamiyama - san," He says, heading towards the door. Kamiyama is his biggest excuse for not being around the office these days, a fact Nishida probably knows all too well; at this point it's become code for _don't let the house burn down while I'm gone_. He swings open the door and cold air comes rushing in. He turns over his shoulder and smiles, "You two behave yourselves!"

Nishida bows. Takayuki nods.

When Majima comes back that night to lock up he finds Takayuki sitting slumped up against one arm of the couch, fast asleep. Again his soft spot aches. He quietly heads past the couch to his messy desk at the back of the room and tells himself he can handle an all - nighter, plopping down into an old, creaky office chair. He kicks his feet up on the desktop with a muted click of his heels.

For the rest of the night Majima keeps vigil over the boy sleeping in a yakuza office, and in the back of his brain a nagging little voice that he tries to ignore happily reminds him that his soft spot is a prime place to wedge a knife.

\--

Takayuki fits nicely into the family over the course of a week or so. The older members look after him somewhat - Majima included - and the younger ones show him how they do things around here. He stays late and comes in early, and no matter what Majima sends him to do, he comes back with only a few bruises and a job well done. Soon it feels like he's always been there; as if perpetually nineteen, a permanent fixture in the family's day to day operations.

One night he comes back with more bruises then usual - he doesn't show up again until past noon the day after. Majima doesn't think much of it at the time, because everyone has their off days and it was only a matter of time before Takayuki ran into something a little too much for him to handle. The kid doesn't say anything, so neither does he, and things run smoothly for the rest of the day.

Nishida comes in the next day looking more worried than he normally does, head bowed and phone in hand.

"Um. Boss?" He ventures. Majima says nothing. He fixes a single black eye on him, idly kicking back and forth in his office chair, mostly not paying attention. Nishida continues once he realizes that's all he's going to get. "I, uh, just got a call from the captain of the Kita Family."

"Yeah?" Nishida nods. Majima slouches lower in his seat and stares up at the ceiling, still toeing the edge of his desk. "And what'd he say?"

"He said their patriarch wanted to see you. Um... Patriarch Anjo?" Nishida winces as Majima sits up, clutching his phone against his chest. He reaches into his pocket for a cigarette and Nishida hurriedly tucks his phone away, leaning across the desk to light it. He leans back just in time to avoid a long sigh of smoke. "He didn't say what about, but..."

"No worries. I'll head on over, see what the fuss is." He stands and peels his jacket off the back of his chair, nonchalantly shrugging it on. He takes his cigarette from his lips with another trail of smoke and taps it a few times over an overflowing ashtray, then points it at Nishida, "Where's their office?"

"There's an office building just next to that new mahjong parlor on Senryo." Nishida explains, ever diligent, once again proving why he's captain above the rest - Majima needs someone who knows stuff like offices, names, phone numbers. He continues, "I think they were on... the third floor."

"Alright, got it! Hold down the fort while I'm gone, Nishida - chan." Majima pats Nishida's arm a few times with a wide, unnerving smile, and saunters past him towards the door. He waves on his way out, forcing the smallest bit of spring into his step as he foot hits the pavement, "Don't wreck the place!"

People steer clear of him, civilian and yakuza alike, like the sea is opening up to let him pass through completely dry. The mad dog is a nocturnal creature so this rare daytime appearance sets the whole city on edge. He smiles at the thought, the corner of his mouth hiking up over a pointed canine. His shoes click off rhythm on the asphalt.

The Kita Family office has very little furniture and very little substance. The paint is peeling, it's set up like they just moved in, and there's a half dead house plant sitting on the solitary desk near the corner of the room. Majima hasn't been there more than a minute and hasn't even seen their patriarch, but he already hates this Anjo guy. Just standing here makes him want to chuck that ugly, dry ass mess of leaves out a window.

"What's the meaning of this, Majima?!" Said patriarch comes storming out of some side door and into the space right in front of him. He's short, old, and red in the face with anger; clearly in the game for a little while past retirement, more bark and less bite. He's also much further into Majima's face than he'd like, and Majima's tempted to remedy that with his fists.

"Slow down there, Anjo - han." He croons, emphasis heavy on the honorific. He raises his hands in surrender, shrugging, and this only leaves the patriarch silently fuming even more. "I'm takin' time outta my busy day to come on over, so mind explainin' before you start yelling?"

"The fact that you don't even know what this is about is part of the problem!" Anjo continues, still yelling. Majima mentally notes that the zombie of an office plant might be better off broken over the short man's head. "One of your young punks nearly killed two of my boys - off your turf, for no reason! You've got to take responsibility for this!"

Majima raises his hand again, shaking his head. "Hold on, now. You hear that all from your boys?"

Anjo pauses. "Huh?"

"I'm asking, your boys tell you all that? 'Cause the "young punk" you're talkin' about wouldn't start a fight for no reason," He's lying through his teeth. He knows this is about Yagami, and no matter how restrained he might play at being, the kid loves a good fight. Still, he's telling the truth when he says, "That don't sound like somethin' he'd do."

"Th - that doesn't change the fact that -!"

"Well, one of 'em is lying. And I can't imagine you'd wanna take this up with Shimano, see whose word he takes?" Anjo's anger falters at the mention of getting a seating patriarch involved. The office plant gets the chance to die another day as the man shrinks away from Majima a little. The mad dog's heavy handed negotiations once again prevail. "Thought so."

"Still..." Majima claps a hand on his shoulder, smiling wide, startling him. He pulls him against his side, hoping his friendliness will come off as aggressive. Judging by the look on Anjo's face, it works.

"I'll give him a good talkin' to, make sure it doesn't happen again." He gives the smaller man a shake for good measure. He pats his arm, nodding with a few times with a long, low hum. "That way we can put the whole thing behind us, an' you won't hafta bring this up the chain. Sound good?"

"I... y - yes, well, " The old man deflates underneath Majima's arm, proving clearly his very little bark and nonexistent bite. He nods, mumbling, "I suppose that'd be for the best..."

"Been a pleasure, Anjo - han." Majima gives him one last pat on the arm and another award winning smile before he unwinds his grip and heads towards the door. "You stay healthy, now. Give your boys my regards."

It's unseasonably warm when he steps outside, the weather promising to melt what little snow there is. The late afternoon sun is bright between buildings. Majima leans up against the wall beside the door, fishes out a cigarette and his lighter, and takes a long drags before he even thinks about doing anything else. He sits there for a bit before pulling out his phone.

Nishida's on speed dial. He picks up before the second ring. "Boss?"

"Hey, worked things out with Anjo." He shrugs and rocks forward onto his feet, walking up the street towards the Champion District. The road is practically empty, the lull right before the nighttime boom. He takes his cigarette between his fingers with a deep breath, "Shouldn't bother us any."

"Right, sir. What, er," Nishida pauses. Majima can practically see him wringing his hands right in front of him, glancing to the floor. There's a sound on the other end of the line, then he continues, "What did he want to talk about?"

"Nothin' you needta worry your little head about!" He yells back, baring his teeth out of habit. A couple across the street from him strays a little further from him and a little closer to the buildings. He wrangles his expression so as to quit scaring the masses. "More important, I got business with Yagami - kun. He in right now?"

"He left a little while ago... should I send someone for him?"

"Nah, it ain't urgent or anything." He walks past the soapland on the corner and glares at a barker that tries to approach him until he retreats. He returns to his usual tone without skipping a beat, heading past the Champion District's entrance. "He always comes back late, yeah? I'll just catch him then."

"O - okay." Majima's mental Nishida bows his head low. Majima mentally pats him on the head a few times. "I'll see you back at the office, then."

"Right. Be seeing ya." He tucks his phone into his pocket with a long sigh, craning his neck back to look up at the late afternoon sky. His cigarette meets his lips for a second before he lets out a deep breath, murmuring, "Still got some daylight to burn."

He considers going out for a drink, but he wants to be sober for this talk. Majima's usual approach to discipline is a bit rougher than the situation demands, he thinks, and Takayuki is the type to listen to reason. He's doesn't seem caught up on honor, or revenge; just some unexplainably dense anger and his own sense of pride. Majima can work with that.

He takes his time heading back to the office, stops by a few family joints, checks in. Responses to the mad dog's sudden arrival are mixed at best. There's an irate customer here, protection money overdue there, but he resolves problems and extends deadlines and the like, in a forgiving mood. It's a series of mindless distractions that make time pass quicker than it would've otherwise, and when the sun is finally set and the moon is high up into the sky, he starts to head back in earnest.

At this time of night the office is deserted, save for the usual few; Nishida, who practically never stops working; Fuji, a burly guy who likes to sit in the back and read when he's not busy back home; and Takayuki, who usually gets traded between the other two until it's time to lock up.

"Ah, Boss." Nishida stands from his desk and bows, Takayuki quietly imitating the gesture beside him. Fuji silently nods his head for a moment before returning to his magazine.

"Evenin', you three." Majima snubs his cigarette and tosses it into the nearly overflowing bin near the door. He looks over the office, makes a mental note to tell Nishida to change the light that's out in the corner, then trains his eye on Takayuki. "Yagami - kun, come with me. Gotta talk with ya."

Takayuki nods. He walks past Majima and swings open the door, holding it open. Majima steps out into the street and waves his hand, gesturing for him to follow. He leads the familiar pair of rubber soles behind him down the street and into a small empty lot, sandwiched between Park Alley and tall buildings, long dead at this hour.

"So..." He turns on his heel to face the boy standing in the middle of the lot, sitting back against a fan affixed to the wall. "You've been around, what, a couple weeks? You settled in yet?"

"Yes, sir. The rest of the family showed me around." He says. Majima notes the lessened acidity in his voice and the new lines in his face, carved by a near constantly furrowed brow. He's already far removed from the punk Majima beat into the dirt a few months ago.

"Good to hear. But, see," Majima folds his arms, jacket hiking up his wrists as it strains and folds at the elbows. "Heard you had a run in with a couple Kita Family boys. That true?"

Takayuki hesitates. "Yes, sir."

"I ain't really that mad. More impressed that you beat the piss outta a couple of the Tojo's old guard," He chuckles. If the fight was anything like how he imagines, it's one he would've loved to see. Takayuki's a big kid, if a little lean. The poor bastards must've been scared out of their minds, and beaten to a veritable pulp. "But they said they didn't do nothing to you. So, I wanna know why."

Again Takayuki hesitates. He curls his hands into fists at his sides, jaw firming up. Majima waits quietly, patiently, until Takayuki takes a deep breath, then another, and starts to speak.

"They... I overheard them talking. About me." He says, slowly. It's probably the most he's spoken since he swore up, quiet as he is. His fists open and close on uneven interval, an anger unable to be expressed in his voice. "They were calling me the Shimano captain's - your... your pet. Like I was a dog."

The kid's barely been in the family for a month and he's already got a claim to fame; and like the Mad Dog of Shimano, people are aiming to leash him to someone more important than him. Majima regards him with a softer heart, now, weakened by both unfortunate similarities and the thought that he's the cause of one of them. He steps forward, metal toes clicking on asphalt, and puts a hand on Takayuki's shoulder.

"Hey. S'okay to feel that... that anger. And if ya needta hang onto it, that's fine too. But you gotta know that," He pauses. Takayuki stares at him with round, brown eyes, and for a moment Majima remembers a similar stare that's long gone. He clears his throat. "That if you don't carry it right, it's gonna get heavy and crush ya, or swallow you whole."

Takayuki stares on, face filled with the kind of reverence reserved for better people than Majima. Majima considers the alternatives, decides to ignore them, and pats him on the arm.

"I got that kinda anger, too. I can," He takes a deep breath and holds it for a second. It comes out a long, tired sigh, ferrying a wounded memory that's weighed down by the burden of repetition. Majima awkwardly pats his arm again, cowed by that look of quiet admiration. "I can help you carry it. I can't take it from you or tell you not to hold onto it, but I can help you carry it right."

Takayuki is silent. His eyes wander to the hand on his shoulder for a long moment before returning to Majima's face. Without a word, without a change in expression or any other sign of life, he nods.

"Right. Well, we, ah - oughta be gettin' back." He gives him one last pat before heading past him towards the alley, waving him over. Takayuki follows close behind as they slowly make their back onto the main road. "Sure Nishida was tellin' ya somethin' important, don't wanna keep him waitin'!"

It's a long moment before Majima hears, quietly behind him, "Thank you."

And in that moment between the lines, Majima knows he'd probably die for this kid. And in the moment that follows that one, the little voice in his head is silent, the man and the mad dog finally in agreement.


	3. February, 1999

Takayuki quickly begins to grow into a new kind of quiet - the intimidating, dangerous kind. He sure as hell didn't get that way overnight, but it feels like that to Majima. Maybe he's just getting old.

The new year brings a whole new mess of business and paperwork and meetings, and Majima's desk is starting to get both a little disgusting and a lot more crowded. He comes in even earlier than Nishida one day, sets his sights on his corner of the office, and plants his hands on his hips with a sigh. There's a mound of cigarette butts in his ashtray and at least five stacks of paper that used to be separate and no longer are, pens and pencils scattered throughout.

He shrugs off his jacket and throws it over the back of his chair, steeling himself for the long haul.

The first thing he does is drag the emptiest trash can across the room and dump his ashtray out. The papers come next; he flips through a few of them and sets them aside, returning them to their rightful piles while setting aside the ones he doesn't need anymore. There's lists and bills and documents Nishida would probably want him to keep, and the rest are destined for a recycling bin.

Majima's managed to reveal the actual desktop by the time he finds a stack of newspapers, some as old as the beginning of last year. He sits down in his chair and flips through the pages, discarding most of them after a quick glance. Some are folded open to certain articles - all nothing more than a bunch of bullshit. He chuckles at a few things he'd probably kept to remember before tossing them aside.

He's getting close to being finished when he stops to read the cover story of a paper from last March; thick, black characters at the top of page read Three Dead In Murder - Suicide.

"Hibari and Keiji... Yagami." He reads out loud, turning in his chair. It takes a second for the information to actually permeate his thick skull, and the moment it does he shoots upright in his seat and nearly falls out of his chair. His eye scans the page, searching for a more familiar first name and hoping it isn't there. Majima's heart sinks. "They leave behind a fifteen year old son... Takayuki."

He wants to think it isn't true - that he didn't swear up some freshly orphaned teenager but a nineteen, maybe even twenty year old man - but coincidence is too easy an escape and the pieces line up too perfectly.

"Damnit, kid," He rips the front page off the paper and crumples it up in his pocket, tossing the rest into the recycling pile. Running away from home and losing your home are two very different things, and three or four years makes all the difference in Majima's judgment. He pulls his jacket with a huff, muttering, "Of all the things you coulda done, y'made the worst choice."

So, Majima does what any reasonable person would do; he storms his way over to that new secondhand book store on Theatre Square, buys every single parenting book he can find - even the ones with stains or the pages torn or missing, even the ones mangled beyond recognition - and storms his way back over to the office within the span of an hour, moving like a man possessed.

He slams the door open and marches over to his mostly clean desk without a word, haphazardly stacking his haul off to one side. The few rank and file boys that are in the office hurriedly, quietly excuse themselves, fearing another one of his moods. Majima ignores them, takes a thick, blue book off the top of the pile, and smacks it down onto the desktop. He flips it open with a loud thud and sets right to reading as fast as he can.

"Um... good morning, sir." Nishida cautiously approaches his desk, like someone nearing a wild animal. Majima ignores him, too. Nishida gingerly plucks the next book off the top and inspects it, turning it over in his hands. He clears his throat, "Ah. Are you, er... expecting, sir?"

"No, ya nitwit! Now can you gimme just five -" Majima pauses. Inspiration, fatal as it is, strikes him. He drops the page he's holding and focuses on Nishida, who sinks under his gaze, setting the book in his hands back onto the desk. "You got a mom back home, don'cha, Nishida - chan?"

"...Yes, sir?"

"Alright! Grab one of these damn books," Majima shoves the closest one, a skinny, dog eared paperback, against his chest. The pages crinkle beneath his hand until Nishida takes it in his, working to straighten them in vain. Majima grabs him by the collar and tugs him over beside him, nearly knocking all the books to the floor in the process. "And sit your ass down and tell me all about 'er."

Majima interrogates Nishida on his home life, the aggressiveness of his questioning keeping the rest of the family at bay. Nishida in return gives valuable advice and important counsel, poring over his half of the stack with an intensity that Majima expects of himself but not many others. Once Nishida finishes - he's a much faster reader than his patriarch, having the advantage of both an extra eye and much more practice - he earnestly walks Majima through the general concepts. It's times like these that Nishida proves his worth, too.

Majima has a limited knowledge of what good parenting looks like, let alone how a good father should act. Most the books are more a waste of money than anything; more than half of them end up in the deep bottom drawer of his desk, never to be seen again. Yet despite the massive business expense they're going to have to note down, the chance to pick Nishida's brain is enough to satisfy Majima for the time being.

"God, ain't ever read so much in one sitting," Majima groans, crossing his arms and leaning back, stretching. The chair creaks beneath him as he kicks his legs out, cramped. He rocks forward up onto his feet, still trying to finish his stretch, "Mhhn, my ass is sore."

"It's been... a few hours, I think." Nishida checks his watch with a stifled yawn. He sets aside his copy of _The Collapse of Parenting_ with a coffee ring stained on the table of contents and fixes his sleeve. Then he finally bows his head, resting his hands in his lap, "I hope I was enough help, sir."

"Sure were." Suddenly Majima remembers why he asked for Nishida's help in the first place. He reaches down and pats his head a few times, "The hell I'd be if you weren't here, huh?"

"... That's high praise, sir." He says.

In Majima's mind, the mad dog moves to fill in yet another hole in the persona he'd spent all of '89 building, quickly plastering the crack shut. He can only have so many soft spots, that little voice reminds him. There's a thin line between strength and impotence, and right now he's walking it a little too unsteady. What little space he's carved out has to have its priorities.

"Don't let it go to your head, now!" He smacks him this time, harder than before, forcing out a chuckle. Nishida's head bobs down underneath the force of his hand. "Get cocky and I'll work ya twice as hard!"

"O - of course, sir."

"Now scram," Majima pushes both Nishida and his chair back away from the desk. The pile of books once again teeters dangerously near the edge of the desktop, and Majima aimlessly waves his hand around to steady it and ends up knocking a few off anyways. He waves Nishida away from picking up what's fallen. "Sure as shit you got other shit to do today."

"Right. I'll..." He bows again, awkwardly lingering. He straightens and begins to carefully navigate his way around the minefield of books scattered across the floor. "I'll be going, then, sir."

Majima grunts in response and flops back into his chair. He waits until the door thuds shut behind Nishida to bend down and pick up a copy of _Unconditional Parenting_ , shoving a torn out page back into the binding before slamming it closed and setting it on the desk. He tries, in vain, to mentally organize the mess of new information bouncing off the inside of his head. Majima always knew his parents weren't the best, and that was pretty easy to decide; but everyone has different opinions on what makes someone good at it.

It seems a pretty slippery slope. Fortunately, Majima already does enough daily high wire tight rope walking that it seems a little less daunting.

He reaches into his pocket and unfolds the front page of last March's paper, gloved thumb trying to ease out a few remaining wrinkles. There's a picture of Takayuki crammed between chunks of text, and he looks like a completely different person than the one Majima knows; his eyes a little brighter, his face a little softer, the collar of a school uniform peeking into view. His smile is small, lopsided. Majima realizes he's never actually seen the kid smile before.

Takayuki's nearly a decade past the adoption age cutoff. If he hadn't come to Kamurocho, where people come to disappear daily, he probably would've ended up in some state home and gotten dumped back out in a few years. Majima feels a surge of something adjacent to righteous anger and shoves the scrap of paper back into his pocket.

He considers calling Takayuki into the office to speed up this whole process and get the weight on his chest off a little quicker - he then realizes that not only does he not have his phone number, but also that the kid probably doesn't have a phone in the first place. Majima sinks into his chair and hunkers down until Takayuki inevitably returns tonight, like he does every night.

\--

By the time Takayuki does actually arrive, Majima and Nishida are the only ones left in the office. Majima practically leaps onto his feet when the door swings open.

"Nishida - chan, lock up for me." He tosses the keys towards him and watches him fumble to catch them, finally clutching them against his chest. Nishida ducks his head, bowing low enough that his forehead might hit his desk.

"Y - yes, sir!"

"Gotta talk to you, Yagami - kun." Majima turns towards Takayuki and pats him on the arm, nodding towards the door. He laughs, habitually baring his teeth. "Not like you're doing anything tonight, yeah?"

"I... haven't done anything." Takayuki says, slowly, looking confused. Majima pushes the door open and gently eases him out onto the street.

"S'not about something you did. Look," Majima puts an arm around him and steers him towards the usual alley - this kind of conversation is one to be had in a quiet bar over more than a handful drinks, but Yagami's not even legal and Majima knows he's done enough underage drinking to last a lifetime. "I, er. I heard about your parents."

Takayuki's pace stutters, and his serious face falters. "You -?"

"Wasn't like I was looking for it or anything. It's just..." Majima trails off, stopping in the middle of the empty lot. He idly rubs Takayuki's arm, trying to think of how to say it. He starts, stops, then lets him go, dropping down onto a step near the back of the lot. He fishes in his pocket for a cigarette and takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "Had no idea what you were coming from. I wouldn't -"

"What does it matter?" Takayuki scowls. "What does it matter what happened before?"

"If you really didn't care, you woulda stayed in a state home." Majima sighs, digging out his lighter. It clicks once, twice, before finally lighting. Standing there in front of him, Takayuki's scowl wavers, the lines in his face shifting. Majima rests his wrists on his knees, looking around the lot. "Just don't sit right with me, bringing you into this."

"You didn't bring me into it, I came in on my own!" He yells. His strict, level tone is collapsing, and Majima curses himself for not realizing sooner; it feels like the worst kind of argument between parents and child, loud and in public. He takes a deep breath. His hands and shoulders shake. "This... this is all I have. Sir."

Majima sighs. He takes a long moment to think, a deep breath, and finally pats the step, "C'mere."

Takayuki quietly obliges. He rests his hands on his knees, awkwardly sitting beside Majima. Suddenly his button up shirt seems so loose on him, baggy sleeves cuffed at his elbows; suddenly he seems so small. Another lost soul that doesn't belong in this town, getting chewed up and begging not to be spat back out.

"This really what you want?" He says. Takayuki nods.

The silence stretches long between them. Slowly, Takayuki brings his feet up onto the step, ducking his chest against his knees. He sniffles, turning to hide his face. Majima's heart twists in his ribs and the words stick in his throat, the burden of comfort a heavy one to bear. The little voice in his head tells him he's never been good at this when it mattered.

Couldn't hurt to try.

"I can't imagine how it feels, losing a family. and I ain't tryin' to replace your parents, either of 'em, but," Majima trails off. Nishida's advice rattles in the back of his brain, mostly forgotten. He takes another drag off his cigarette and sighs, thin smoke shining in distant streetlights. "You've been in the game long enough to know. Patriarch's gotta take care of his boys."

Takayuki doesn't say anything, just keeps his arms folded across his chest and resting on his knees. He looks so, so small right now, even more than before, and Majima can't imagine how he didn't realize sooner. The late winter air is cold but promising to get warmer after evening's up, and Takayuki's hair blows idly around his eyes. He doesn't move to fix it.

Majima sits there on the pavement beside him and opens and closes his fists on repeat. He sits there and thinks as hard as he can about the words and how they should come out until he finally says, "I wanna... give ya my name."

Takayuki looks at him with wet eyes and messy hair and freezes, still as a statue and wearing a neutral expression that's struggling to stay that way. If he moved, majima knows his hand would wander to his shirt, that his thumb would brush against gold metal.

"S'not about the crest. The rest of the family's still, well, family, y'know?" It sounds so stupid now that he's finally said it. He runs a hand through his hair and laughs at himself, softly. When he turns back to the boy beside him he's met with two wide, brown eyes and a repeated look of awe. He mentally stumbles, "What I mean is, a name like yours has got baggage to it. And, if you'll take it, I'll... give ya mine. Maybe help lighten the load."

Takayuki sits there for a long time and says nothing and just breathes, quiet and shaky, slowly in and out. He sits there for a long time and Majima sits there next to him, and eventually the statue comes to life, solemnly nodding his head.

Yagami Takayuki dies one cold but getting warmer night in late February, 1999, and he hasn't even turned sixteen; on the same night, Majima Goro finds himself wrapping an arm around his newborn, fifteen year old son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm surprised this has gotten much response at all! thank you to everyone who's read so far :]  
> the next chapter's going to finally be set in kiwami, so it's going to be a big change from this one. i'm looking forward to writing it!


	4. December, 2005

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these are all gonna be pretty short... nonetheless, i hope you're enjoying them! i've found the whole concept really fun to explore so far.  
> there's going to be maybe 9 - 10 more chapters, max. most of them are going to be covering individual majima everywhere "encounters".  
> thank you for reading!

Kiryu returns to Kamurocho to find it a very different place than how he left it ten years ago. The streets are familiar yet foreign, everything around him distinct yet distorted; like coming back home and finding everything moved a few inches to the left. 

Despite everything, he doesn't have to walk halfway up Tenkaichi before he finds a group of punks laid out on the side of the road. It seems some things about Kamurocho will never change. It's a comforting thought, on the surface. 

"Are you alright?" Despite his better judgment, Kiryu kneels down beside the one kid who's still conscious. He moans, clutching his side as he struggles to sit up. His face is a mottled collage of red and purple, brusied to hell. Kiryu looks between the rest of them to find similar results, the other three brutalized in the same way. "What happened?" 

"It happened so fast..." The kid manages. He flops back onto the ground, exhausted, arms splaying out across the asphalt. Foot traffic continues to move around them like nothing's happened, as usual. "I - it must've been a... a demon..." 

Kiryu scans the street for a second and doesn't see anyone very suspicious. He turns back to the downed punk. "Which way did he go?" 

"Over by... Public Park Three..." 

Kiryu stands. His curiosity has already gotten the better of him, and he'd like to find out who this demon is. Stardust can wait just a little longer; this shouldn't take too much time. He heads up the street towards the park and immediately recognizes the sound of a fight from the alley across from it. He slips into the alley without even a second thought. 

There's two men in the little alcove between buildings, one lying flat on the ground. The one that's still standing is turned away from Kiryu, wearing a black button up with the sleeves cuffed at his elbows and leather gloves that end at his wrists. Dark ink is visible on his bare forearms, scars disrupting his tattoo, color and miscoloration curving over obvious muscle. 

So this is the demon. 

The demon bends down to grab his prey by the hair, pulling him onto his knees. He reaches for the man's ear, pauses, then moves his hand to his lapel. A gloved hand eases the crest off of his opponent's jacket and weighs it in its palm. He drops him back to the ground with a loud thud. 

"What do you want?" The demon says nonchalantly, just barely turning his head towards Kiryu. Silver rings and dark metal studs shine on his ear. 

"I heard there was a demon on the loose tonight." Kiryu crosses his arms. The demon chuckles dryly but doesn't smile, pocketing his trophy. Kiryu continues, "I thought I'd come see him for myself." 

"How brave." The demon turns, slowly, finally facing Kiryu. Brown eyes narrow, closely inspecting him. Yet another piercing glistens on his lip, two more along the curve of his brow. More ink peeks out on his chest, his shirt undone by a few buttons. "Hmm. Kiryu - san, right?" 

Kiryu pauses. "You've heard of me?" 

"I've heard enough. They call you a dragon, but you sure don't look it. At least, not anymore." The demon says, appraising him. His blank expression pairs well with his flat voice, and Kiryu gets the feeling that this sort of violent streak isn't an unusual occurence. The demon nods his head to one side in thought, "He said to wait... but you're here now. I should make sure you won't just waste his time." 

"He..?" Kiryu can't imagine who could be looking for him already, seeing as he hasn't been in town for more than an hour. 

"If you beat me, I'll explain everything." The demon assumes a low stance, one hand close to his chest and the other outstretched. He trains an intense, cold stare on Kiryu, practically emotionless. Kiryu returns the silent aggression in full, putting up his fists. "But I doubt you can." 

"We'll see about that." 

In the next instant the demon lunges forward, striking Kiryu with an open palm. Kiryu can barely force himself out of the way of his next swing before he suddenly drops low to the ground, sweeping his legs out from under him. The demon plants his foot against Kiryu's chest, grinding his heel into one of his ribs. Kiryu is too weak to force him off. 

"Is that all?" The demon asks, punctuating his sentence with a firm stomp against bone. Kiryu chokes beneath his weight, hands grabbing at his ankle, useless. "You're worse than I thought you'd be. Guess the last decade really did a number on you." 

"Khk -!" The demon leans over on his knee, forcing his foot further against Kiryu's chest. He takes one of Kiryu's sleeves between his thumb and forefinger and tears a button off the cuff, holding it up to his eye to examine it. "You..." 

"You're nowhere near a dragon, Kiryu - san. Far from it." He scowls deeper, straightening. Kiryu gasps for air as some of the pressure eases off his lungs. The demon gives the button one last glance before he adds it to his pocket, the other man's crest jingling against it. "Right now, you're no better than any other street trash." 

The demon steps back towards the end of the alley and Kiryu takes a heaving, deep breath, finally able to breathe. He glares down at him, expression souring, but he lets Kiryu prop himself up on his elbows. He casually fixes the cuff of his sleeve, revealing another inch of ink. 

"We'll see how long you last in this town. Who knows," He growls, turning to leave. The demon reaches into his pocket to pull out the button, grey constrasting starkly against leather fingertips as he observes it once more. "Maybe this will be what carries your last memory." 

Kiryu stands, aching, his body burning. Despite his attitude, this demon was right; he's out of form and out of practice, not moving the way he remembers. He's stiff and weak and if he hadn't spared him, Kiryu probably would've ended up like all the others the demon had already left in his wake. 

The man on the ground beside him is still unconscious. Kiryu's not sure what to do about the whole thing, so he leaves and heads to Stardust, hoping the pain in his step won't be too obvious.


	5. Majima Everywhere - Rank E

Kiryu's walking past the Millenium Tower, having finally gotten a moment to himself in all the recent chaos, when he hears steel footsteps pounding fast on the pavement behind him. He turns around to see Majima hurtling towards him, a familiar manic smile plastered across his face. It's nice to that yet more things never change. 

"Kiryu - chan!" He laughs, arms spread wide as he skids to a stop in front of him. When Majima offers him a hug, waving said arms around a little, Kiryu hesitantly obliges. The tension starts to leave his shoulders when a minute passes without a knife in his back or a knee in his stomach. Majima continues, high pitched and saccharine, "Look, I know it's been a hot minute, but I gotta apologize to ya." 

Kiryu's always known Majima to be touchy, but more in a destructive, violent way rather than a sentimental one. "What for?" 

"I promised ya I'd have my eye on you, and - ugh!" Majima scowls, pulling away from Kiryu and taking him by the arms. His voice drops low and angry, turning on a dime. His fingers dig into the fabric of Kiryu's jacket, bunching it up at his shoulders. "You finally get back in town and someone else gets to ya first! I might die of embarassment, here!" 

"Ah. I'm," It takes Kiryu a second to fully register any of what Majima just said. He remembers ten years ago, a promise made that he hadn't really participated in and had mostly forgotten. He wonders how his first fight back in Kamurocho would have gone if it had been with Majima instead, and decides he wouldn't have won either way. "Sorry. I know that... means a lot to you." 

"No harm done! I'll just hafta keep a closer eye on ya." Majima wraps an arm around Kiryu's back and steers him off his intended course and towards the Champion District. "Still, lemme buy you a drink, make it up to ya." 

His grip is strong and Kiryu is both not back in form and not keen on resisting him. There should be some time before he has to return to whatever comes next. He nods, submitting, "Only for a little bit." 

"Alright!" Majima shakes him, roughly, and urges them forward. Kiryu stumbles into pace alongside him, faster than he'd like. People steer clear of them with sideways glances and mixed glares of fear and muted resentment. Majima sighs, "Ahh, been forever since we shot the shit. You got any good stories from the clink?" 

"Not really. Not much happened." Kiryu shrugs. 

"Behaved yerself, huh?" Kiryu nods. Majima laughs and smacks him on the shoulder, outright cackling. He pushes open a bar door and the owner doesn't react, which assures Kiryu that this is a regular occurence. "Boring, Kiryu - chan, boring! No wonder ya got out so fast!" 

"I didn't want to keep anyone waiting." 

"Well ya sure kept me! And I didn't even get the first fight." Majima whines. He slumps into a barstool with a huff, hunching over the counter, and mumbles his order to the bartender and waves him away. Kiryu joins him at the bar, quieter, calmer. Majima leans back in his seat, lightening up a little. "So, how'd it feel, gettin' back in action?" 

"Not good. I can't move the way I used to." Kiryu shakes his head. Surprisingly, Majima nods sympathetically beside him. The mad dog accepts his drink from the bartender and offers another to Kiryu, expression earnest. Kiryu takes it and stares at the bottom of his glass. "I got my ass kicked like I was a kid again." 

"Well, with you playin' all goody - goody, no wonder you're outta practice." Majima takes a long swig of his drink and slams his already half empty glass down on the counter. His gaze turns from soft to pointed in an instant, and he elbows Kiryu in the side, "Don't tell me you got beat by some punk trash, though. Shit'd be downright miserable." 

"No. He looked pretty young, but he was probably yakuza." Majima eyes him curiously. Kiryu pauses to take his own drink and is surprised to learn that Majima knows what kind of beer he likes. "His sleeves were rolled up, so I could see his tattoo." 

"That so?" Kiryu nods, and Majima purses his lips. He thinks for a moment, then asks, "He have piercings, too?" 

Kiryu nods again. "Do you know him, nii - san?" 

"Wasn't the way I wanted you to meet him, but," Majima shrugs. This, of course, explains nothing to Kiryu, who's still confused. Majima chuckles, downs the rest of his glass, and sighs. "Hell, why not? There oughta be worse first impressions." 

"I'm... not sure I understand." 

"That guy who kicked your ass? His name's Majima Takayuki." Majima chuckles, smacking Kiryu on the back harder than necessary. "He's my pride and joy! I was hopin' to introduce you two, but I guess ya already got acquainted, huh?" 

Sure enough, Kiryu looks at him to find he's got a look in his eye that only a father could have. "Congratulations. I'm happy for you." 

"Aw, gettin' all sentimental on me?" Majima croons, even though he's the one that adopted a son in the last decade. He smacks Kiryu again a couple times. "Yer a big softie, Kiryu - chan! After he whooped ya, too!" 

"...Maybe." Kiryu sighs, resting the rim of his glass against his lips. This is familiar - Majima, talking like this - and comfortingly so. He smiles a little, despite himself. That he would find Majima comforting is yet another surprise about him. He sets his glass down and adds, "To be honest, I thought he'd take after you more." 

Majima narrows his eye, carefully inspecting Kiryu, looking him over. He waits a long moment before frowning, voice a low drawl, "What're you tryna say?" 

"N - nothing..." Kiryu deflates a little. He returns his glass to his mouth, practically hiding behind it. Majima's thorough gaze endures. "I just thought..." 

"Ah, you mean the stabbin' and the yelling, all that?" Kiryu nods. Majima's gaze softens as he once again throws an overly friendly arm around kiryu's shoulder, jostling him. His gloved hand upsets the fabric of Kiryu's jacket, his grip tight. "Well, truth of it is, Takkun hates knives. Real quiet kid, too! Couldn't be less like his dad." 

"...I see." 

"Speakin' of takin' after his pops - ya just gave me the best idea!" Majima shoots up out of his seat and kicks his stool back halfway across the floor, slamming his hands on the counter. The bartender is once again unfazed. Majima turns on his heel and pats Kiryu on the arm, "Yer gonna have two more eyes on ya and twice the amount a trouble to deal with, just you wait!" 

He storms out of the bar with a hearty laugh, not sparing Kiryu a moment's thought or another word. 

Despite the supposed normalcy of this event in comparison to Kiryu's previous encounters with Majima, this one carries a fresh sense of foreboding; Kiryu stands, pays for both their drinks, and quietly excuses himself before heading out onto the street himself.


	6. Majima Everywhere - Rank D

Kiryu really didn't mean to get dragged into this bar by the barker outside, but he couldn't stand to watch the man grovel for much longer. He sighs and sits himself down in one of the empty stools and mentally steels himself for something strange to happen; recently it's been like the absurd is always hot on his heels, and this shouldn't be any exception. 

"Welcome." The bartender's voice is low and calm. He's facing towards the wall, but Kiryu can see a ring and a few studs pierced into his ear. He turns and gently sets a glass down, resting his hands on the countertop. A familiar face glances down at Kiryu, brows drawn into a firm line. "What can I get you, sir?" 

"Majima..?" 

"Takayuki is fine." The younger Majima says matter of factly, closely observing him. For some reason such a professional look suits him. He moves a gloved hand to fix his lapel, the family crest still neatly affixed there. He folds his hands together and bows a little, "Now, can I get you something, sir? I insist." 

Kiryu hesitates. The outcome of any of the options he's considering are not promising, and he really isn't looking to get his ass handed to him again. He sighs, "Just one drink." 

"Of course, sir." He clears the counter and reaches beneath the bar, setting out an ashtray before turning to the back wall once more. Glass clinks, and he works quietly but quickly before setting a filled glass onto the counter, a dark liquid gently rocking against the edges. "The owner's favorite, the Mazima. A rich taste couples well with the specific charm this drink holds. Most customers don't go after just one glass." 

It's definitely not the worst drink he's had. The description's spot on, even if the name is a little suspicious. He sets aside his empty glass and is mostly satisfied. 

Takayuki bows again. "Will that be all, sir?" 

"Yeah, I should get going." 

"Of course. For this particular brand, one glass comes out to..." Takayuki clears the counter once more as he thinks, grabbing a rag and quickly setting to work. He cleans Kiryu's glass and returns it to its rightful place before bowing once more, "Fifty six thousand yen." 

"What?" Finally the absurd arrives. Kiryu glances up at Takayuki but his face is completely blank, expression neutral as ever. "Over fifty grand for one drink?" 

"Our usual retail price is much higher, sir, but the owner asked me to give you a steep discount." Takayuki casually fixes the cuff of his sleeve. He sets a gloved hand on the counter, reaching down the reveal the bottle of the aforementioned drink, turning it over to show Kiryu the label. He sets it back and says, "He can discuss your bill. I'll go get him for you." 

As Takayuki steps out from the bar and leaves out the back door, Kiryu look around at the other patrons. No one else seems fazed by anything that's going on. The whole thing seems oddly surreal, and it unfortunately fits with most other things he's had to deal with in recent days. He's still looking around the bar when the door opens again. 

"Ya got a problem with how we do things here?" Yet another familiar face greets Kiryu, much louder than the first one. A single black eye sits inches away from one of his, Majima leaned all the way over the counter and getting right in his face. "You usually leave your tab for someone else, Kiryu - chan? How rude!" 

"Figures you'd be here too." Kiryu scowls. Majima refuses to back off, inching closer and closer to him by the second. "This is a pretty elaborate trick, even for you." 

"A trick? I'll have you know Takkun here was a bartender in his youth!" Majima throws an arm around Takayuki and gives him a good shake. Takayuki, to his credit, remains stonefaced and unaffected. The mad dog slams his hands on the counter and scowls, bending at the waist. His breath is hot in Kiryu's face as he growls, "There's other ways to settle a tab, though. Let's take this shit outside." 

"Fine." Kiryu stands, and Majima straightens with him. Majima pats Takayuki on the shoulder once or twice, tells him to stay inside, and pushes Kiryu out into the street. 

"Now you can pull whatever shit you want." Majima says, grabbing a bat from beside the bar door. Metal sounds softly against leather as he pulls it into his hand, tapping it against his palm. He cackles, whipping the bat over his shoulder, "Don't hold back on my account!" 

Majima makes the first move, swinging wide towards Kiryu's side; Kiryu moves an arm to block it and it stings worse than it should. He shrugs off the blow and takes up a low stance, sliding close enough to grab Majima by the collar and throw him onto the ground. Majima rolls out from beneath his foot and onto his feet, laughing again. Aluminum scrapes harshly along the ground. 

The bat rises in an instant. Majima flicks the tip downward, and Kiryu anticipates a swing that never comes - the bat instead lands square against his arm with a loud thunk, and Majima follows up with another fast strike to his stomach. Kiryu reaches for Majima again, but the mad dog quickly steps just out of his grasp. In a fit of rage, Kiryu steals a bicycle off the side of the road and lifts it in both hands. 

"That's more like it." Majima croons. The bike meets his stomach and forces him to the ground, and Kiryu slams it down over him, metal frame distorting with the force. 

Majima once again rises to his feet, slower this time. The bat hangs loosely out of his hand. He swings, sloppy this time, and Kiryu grabs him by the arm and throws him against the wall of the bar. He wheezes and raises the bat once more, and when he swings this time Kiryu grabs the bat and kicks Majima to the ground, ripping it out of his hands. He breathes heavy, holding it at his side. 

"Gettin' better, Kiryu - chan," Majima manages from his place on the ground, slowly propping himself up on one knee. Both of them are panting, unkept, and a mess of red is blossoming on Majima's exposed torso, heaving with each breath he takes. "Not quite there yet... but you're on yer way." 

Kiryu, still gasping for breath, says nothing. Majima stands on shaking legs and extends his hand. Kiryu silently returns the bat to him. 

"Ah, but it sure was fun seein' ya get all worked up." Majima chuckles, which sounds more painful than it usually does. He clutches his side with a sigh. "Who knew it was that easy?" 

"It's not... the first time I've been scammed these days," Kiryu manages. Majima offers him a sympathetic look and a slightly more genuine smile. 

"Guess you still gotta be more cautious, then." He huffs, planting a hand on his back as he leans back, stretching. He groans as bones pop, and Kiryu tries to recall just how old Majima is. The mad dog saunters over and swings open the door to the bar, giving him a short salute, "Until next time, Kiryu - chan. Remember, I got my eye on you!" 

The door swings shut, leaving Kiryu alone in his exhaustion. He slowly straightens, looking up past the buildings and taking stock of the time. He ought to get back to Serena. 

Maybe there he can get a drink that he can actually afford.


	7. Majima Everywhere - Rank C

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally, some lore! it isn't much, but still, thank you all for reading.

"Ojisan?" Haruka lets go of Kiryu's hand to tug on his sleeve. He looks down at her and she points at his pocket, staring back up at him with round eyes. "Your phone went off."

Kiryu flips open his phone to find yet another email from Nishida, with the subject line _Just Letting You Know..._ , which doesn't tell Kiryu much of anything. He opens it and skims enough to get the gist; Majima's busy, so he won't bother him for a while, but now Takayuki's on the loose without his father giving him anything to keep him occupied. Kiryu sighs and puts his phone away.

"What was it?" Haruka asks, cocking her head to one side.

"Just a message from someone I work with." He returns her hand to his. It isn't really a lie, but it isn't the whole truth of it either - and Haruka's perceptive. Probably more than he is, if he's honest. She eyes him curiously, tilting her head a little further, sticking out her lip in thought. "What's wrong?"

"It's just..." She pouts, pudgy cheeks pushing up against her eyes. Her entire face scrunches up a little. "Are you going to be busy again today?"

"I said I'd spend some time with you, right?" She nods. Kiryu rests his hand on the top of her head, just barely mussing her hair. "Don't worry. I won't let anything get in the way."

"Okay! Then..." Haruka thinks long and hard. Kiryu can admire her concentration as she furrows her brow, mirroring him a little. She idly swings their hands between them, a bounce in her step. Suddenly, she lights up, bright eyes looking up to him again, "I wanna see you get the high score in Fantasy Land!"

"The Club Sega again?" She nods. Kiryu softens; the look in her eyes makes these mundane requests worthwhile. He swings his arm to keep up with hers as he changes course, turning off the alley and onto the main road. "I'll see what I can do. No promises, though."

"You can do it, Ojisan!" She pulls on his hand, insistent. He pushes open the door and lets her walk through before him, still clutching his hand as she moves ahead. Warm air rushes out after them as he shuts the arcade doors behind them. "You just need to do some positive thinking!"

He manages a small smile. "Maybe."

"Kiryu - san." A familiar voice sounds. Kiryu turns to see Takayuki leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest. Black rows of ink dance along his forearms, disappearing beneath the wrists of his gloves. Haruka moves a little closer to his leg.

"Tch, Takayuki - kun..." Kiryu puts his hand around Haruka's shoulder, cupping her against his side. Takayuki stands from where he's leaning and straightens. His dark eyes move from Kiryu to Haruka, observing. Kiryu gives him a pointed look. "What do you want?"

"I was just going to ask you a favor." He points past Kiryu towards the opposite wall. Kiryu turns to see him indicating the claw machine by the door. Takayuki folds his arms again as says, expression blank, "I want something from there."

Kiryu looks him over, like someone else is standing before him. "...Can't you get something yourself?"

"If you get one for me, I'll leave you alone for today." It's a very tempting offer. Kiryu reaches in his pocket and fishes out a couple loose hundred yen coins, weighing them in his hand. He sighs. Takayuki adds, "Make sure it's one of those red cats."

"Fine." 

The claw machine cheers when he puts his change in, which is an unsatisfying, anticlimactic end to their terse standoff. Haruka slowly stops holding onto his leg, drifting away from him but staying at his side. Takayuki's reflection regards her from the glass.

"Do you work with Ojisan?" Haruka asks.

"Something like that." Takayuki kneels in front of her, getting down to her eye level. Kiryu glances back at him but sees no sign of aggression on his part. His serious voice seems to soften as he says, "I'm Takayuki. What's your name?"

"Haruka."

"Nice to meet you, Haruka - chan." The claw slips around the cat's head and knocks it over. Takayuki looks to Kiryu then back down to Haruka, resting his weight on his back heel, sitting a little more comfortably. He huffs, "Your uncle's lousy at this."

"He's good at games, he just needs a minute." Haruka comes to his defense. Kiryu leans around the machine to get a better look from the side, assessing the situation. The cat's in a weird position, now; his earlier failure just made things harder. Haruka leans over and whispers conspiratorially, cupping a hand around her mouth, "He's bad at baccarat, though. Cee - lo, too."

"Is that so?" Takayuki says, sounding a little surprised. Haruka giggles. For some reason Kiryu feels a pang of betrayal, even if she's not wrong. He returns to the claw machine and starts to make his next move.

"But that's okay! He's good at lots of other things!" The claw lands firmly around the cat's head, and it tumbles into the box below. He crouches down and pulls it out, and Haruka points to it. "See?"

"Here." Kiryu passes it off to Takayuki, who gingerly turns it over in his hand. He runs a finger along the seam of its neck, then carefully moves his hand to raise its arm with his thumb. Kiryu's curiousity gets the better of him. "Why do you want it, anyway?"

"I have the rest of the set. I was just missing this one." Kiryu gives him another questioning look, still more confused than anything. Takayuki, satisfied with his inspection, gently tucks the toy underneath his arm. "I collect things. Keychains, stuff like that."

Kiryu puts something together in his head. "Did you take my button for one of your collections, too?"

"Yeah. It's a pretty boring trophy, but you didn't have much on you." Takayuki says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. He shrugs. From his pocket he withdraws a small golden pin, turning it over in his hand. Kiryu spots an unfamiliar family insignia on its face. "Yakuza that fuck with me lose their crests. Punks lose their stupid flashy jewelry. Sometimes I even rip out their earrings."

Takayuki's eyes are empty, and his words are just as hollow. There's an anger Kiryu can't describe that fills every open space; he's soaked in it, and it permeates his very being. If he's inherited anything from Majima, it's that raw power hidden just beneath his surface. Kiryu can only wonder why it's there in the first place.

"Why?" He asks, in regard to more than one thing. Takayuki turns those dark, empty - full eyes onto him.

"It's all worthless. On their suits, their hands, even in their skin," He says, pocketing his trophy. The dissonance of his words and where he's standing is intense. Haruka again clutches to Kiryu's leg as Takayuki continues, the same blank expression on his face. "There's nothing behind it. Nothing behind yours, either. Not yet."

"When is it worth something, then?" Kiryu looks on at the judge, jury, and executioner all standing in the same place.

"When you put something behind what I took from you, you'll know." Takayuki turns to leave. He glances back at Kiryu over his shoulder and Kiryu recalls the time they fought, the ghost of that encounter laid over this one. A hand that isn't there holds a grey, plastic button up once more. "It'd be disappointing to have yet another worthless trophy."

The doors swing shut behind him. Kiryu stands there and doesn't even know where to start unpacking half of what he just said.

"Ojisan..." Haruka tugs on his sleeve again. "That guy seemed kind of scary."

"Sorry, Haruka." Kiryu pats her head as she slowly backs away from his leg. She looks up at him with those wide, round eyes and Kiryu mentally fumbles for the right words. He settles on, "I don't think he meant to scare you. He was just upset."

"About what?" She asks. Kiryu stares at the door as if he'll see through them and see Takayuki walking down the street, and maybe if he watches long enough he'll understand. Haruka awaits an answer he doesn't have.

Kiryu looks at the door after him and sees a thousand different things, none of them here and now. He sees them and all he can say is, "I don't know."


	8. Majima Everywhere - Rank B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> had a lot of fun with this one! wanted some levity after a suddenly heavy chapter.  
> thanks for reading! :]

Kiryu's phone rings as he's walking past the Millenium Tower. When he notices the caller ID he debates with himself for a little bit before sighing and finally answering on the third ring. 

"H - hello?! Kiryu - san!" 

"Nishida?" He sounds genuinely distressed, which is a first for these calls. The line crackles, something happening just out of the reciever's reach. Kiryu hears the distant, muffled sound of something falling, a hushed, deep voice and a sound of pain. "What's wrong?" 

"Please, h - hurry! Th - the young master, he," There's more noise on the other end, and Nishida sucks in a sharp breath. Kiryu swears he can hear another voice there with him. Nishida slowly continues, his own voice shaking, "He's in deep trouble..." 

Kiryu weighs his options. If this serious, Majima would never forgive him if he just left Takayuki out to dry. "Where are you right now?" 

"S - Senryo. If you don't get here soon, he -" Something growls. Something else hits the ground with a pronounced thud, and the strange noise continues. Nishida cries out, the line growing fuzzy, his voice distorted with distance. "Young master, no!" 

"Nishida? Nishida!" Nothing but the dial tone answers him. "Damnit, what happened..?" 

He shoves his phone into his pocket and immediately changes direction, making a beeline south. No matter what Takayuki's like, Kiryu's sure Majima would lose it if anything happened to his son; if he isn't there already, he's probably on his way right now. It's strange, thinking about them working together - though even stranger is their sudden, new common goal. 

When Kiryu reaches the mouth of Senryo he can already see them. Takayuki's lying on the ground, Majima crouched down over him. Even from here he can tell that it isn't looking good. 

"Is he alright?" Majima turns at the sound of Kiryu's voice, but something's off. His face is pale, his eye glossed over. Blood is splattered across his chest and his jacket, dripping from his mouth and staining his collarbone. Kiryu takes a step back. "Nii - san..?" 

Takayuki stumbles onto his feet behind him, similarly pale. His shirt is torn and bloody, his hair messy and hanging in his face. He opens his mouth with a moan and there's blood caked to his teeth, running down his lips. He slumps back and then straightens for only a second, unsteady on his feet. His neck is bleeding. 

Majima lunges at him, baring his teeth. Kiryu wrestles with him and throws him aside, forcing him down to the ground. Takayuki shuffles past his father without so much as a glance, arms outstretched, fingers twitching. Kiryu hesitates a moment before kicking him back towards the end of the street, leaving him to join Majima on the pavement. 

His phone rings. 

"What the hell's going on here, Nishida?" On the ground, Majima writhes. A dark pool of blood begins to form around his mouth, so red it's almost black. Takayuki lies in a similar state beside him, still bleeding profusely from a series of holes in his neck. "What happened to Majima - san and Takayuki - kun?" 

"The young master, and the boss... turned. They're..." Nishida says, weakly. Kiryu watches Takayuki sluggishly come onto his knees, movements all wrong as he struggles to stand. One shoulder rises before the other, his every move skewed to one side. "They're zombies now." 

"What?!" 

"I've already been bit. I - it's... too late for me." He takes a shaky breath and swallows, chuckling dryly under his breath. Kiryu backs away towards the mouth of the road, and Takayuki slowly begins to follow. Nishida continues, sounding desperate, "If you want to survive... run! The whole family's probably infected by now..." 

"Nishida!" Kiryu yells. Someone screams, and the panic cascades through more people that are near him. Nishida lets out a low, animalistic noise and is met with more terror, the panic intensifying. The line goes dead as his phone hits the ground. "What's going on over there? Nishida?!" 

"Ki... ryu..." Takayuki moans. He staggers forward again, blood dripping from his mouth onto the pavement. His head jerks to one side, wounded skin folding over itself, bite marks opening anew. His voice is low and rough in his throat as he growls, "Kir - ryu..." 

"Takayuki - kun..." Kiryu watches him slowly limp closer, stiff limbs taking up an unsteady fighting posture. At this point, it would be a mercy to stop him and the rest of the family. No matter how much he doesn't want to, they're too much of a danger to the city. He sighs, assuming his own stance, "Guess I don't have a choice. I'll just have to stop you all!" 

Takayuki lunges, but Kiryu knows the move better with recent experience; he slips to the side, light on his feet, and seizes the opening. To his credit, Takayuki manages to stay upright. He slowly turns and stikes again, palm glancing off of Kiryu's arm. He carries the momentum and suddenly lowers his stance, kicking Kiryu square in the chest. Kiryu stumbles back and Takayuki continues, a blur of motion, fast and precise. Finally his calf collides with Kiryu's raised forearm, and Kiryu takes him by the leg and throws him to the ground. 

Kiryu doesn't have much experience with zombies, but he's not sure that they're supposed to move so fast - and so effortlessly, at that. 

Takayuki slowly begins to sit up, blood dripping down onto his chest as he bares his teeth. Kiryu plants a foot firmly against his chest and pushes him back to the pavement. He looks up to see Majima gone from his place down the street, and turns to see more of the Majima Family milling around the alleyway across Senryo. 

Kiryu lifts his foot and Takayuki doesn't move. He turns towards the rest of the zombies. 

The family goons aren't even half as resilient as their captain. He slowly works his way through them, the shambling masses crumpling beneath his fists. The fact that most of the family is all in one place is strange, but not nearly as strange as everything else about this situation. He finally manages to break through the crowd and out onto the main road, leaving a trail of bodies behind. 

"Kiryu... cha - agggh..." Majima rounds the corner at the end of the street, a devilish grin on his face. He jerks forward, then back, one arm outstretched. His glossy eye roves hungrily over Kiryu. He smiles wider, howling like a madman, "Hrrgkk..! Gimme a little taste!" 

Majima is just as nimble as his son, one hand guarding his face while the other lashes out, the two exchanging places back and forth as he presses the attack. Kiryu raises his arms, shielding his face from the worst of it; Majima seizes the opportunity and seizes Kiryu along with it, driving his knee into his stomach. Kiryu staggers, the wind knocked out of him. Majima grins. 

Just as Kiryu's about to retaliate, strong hands land on him from behind. Leather fingers grip his shoulder, and in the next instant there's teeth in his neck and a fist grabbing him by the hair, lifting his chin. He tries to find his attacker and fails, his head held in place. Kiryu drives his elbow back behind him and it lands against skin and bone, and the hands finally leave him. 

He turns to see Takayuki standing behind him, wiping his mouth on the back of his arm. Thick, dark red smears across dark ink. Kiryu claps his hand to his neck and feels an excess of cold blood and the sting of small, pinprick marks - marks left by teeth. Takayuki sneers and reveals four pointed canines. 

On his other side, Majima cackles. He reels back in a long, deep laugh, corpse - like stiffness suddenly melting; then he sputters, laughing coming to an abrupt halt as his hands fly to his face. He frowns, mumbling, "Aw shit, bit myself." 

"Majima..? But..." Kiryu's hand leaves his neck and slowly drifts down to his side as he straightens, catching his breath. Majima crosses one arm over his chest and stretches then switches to the other. Kiryu watches him, flabbergasted. "But you were a zombie..." 

"Kind of cliche, isn't it?" Takayuki lisps, like his mouth is full of cotton. He gingerly takes a plastic set of fangs out of his mouth and spits out a glob of too thick, too dark blood. He runs his tongue along his real teeth and folds his arms. "I wanted to be vampires." 

"If ya hadn't gone all crazy with the fake blood," Majima huffs, flicking some off his jacket, "We mighta been vampires next time." 

"You have to go all in if you really want to sell it." He shrugs. Takayuki peels his gloves off and shoves both them and the plastic teeth into his pocket; Kiryu notices that his tattoos go all the way up to his knuckles. He brushes the back of his hand against his bloodstained chest, failing to peel off the mostly dry red. He frowns. "Maybe I did go a little overboard." 

"Eh, no harm in it. Better too much than too little!" Majima says, throwing an arm around him. Takayuki runs a hand through his hair and brushes it back against his head, revealing the edge of his makeup just below his hairline. Kiryu suddenly feels more stupid than he has all month. Majima gives his son a shake, "Now, ya oughta go get cleaned up. Nishida's waitin' back at the office." 

"Right." Takayuki nods. He extracts himself from Majima's embrace and gives Kiryu a small, curt bow, tucking his hands in his pockets as he straightens. "Later, Kiryu - san. Thanks for the fun." 

Kiryu swears he can see him smiling a little as he turns to leave, and realizes it's the first time he's done so. Majima quickly moves to occupy his attention once more. 

"So, you like my surprise?" He says, a cheeky grin plastered across his face. Majima rubs his palm against his cheek and wipes away some of his grey skin, exposing pale, but flush skin beneath it. "There was a shitty horror flick on during one of our brainstormin' sessions, and I had the best damn idea. Took a whole B - movie budget, but ya fell for it, hook, line, n' sinker!" 

"So this was just another elaborate plan of yours?" Kiryu sighs, trying to wipe the fake blood of his hands. It sticks in the folds of his palms and the undersides of his fingers, stubbornly clinging on. He shakes his head, "What a waste of time." 

"Ah, but it was fun to see Kiryu - chan take himself so seriously!" Majima croons, folding his hands together with glee. His enthusiasm about the whole thing only adds to Kiryu's embarassment. Majima laughs, wide smile pushing his cheeks into his eyes. "I'll have to think up somethin' real good for next time!" 

"You're still set on doing this, huh?" 

"Course I am! Ya think I'm gonna quit when I've already gotten this far?!" He growls, leaning deep into Kiryu's personal space. Their noses are inches from each other; Majima's breath is hot against his face. In an instant he pulls back and returns to his cheerful demeanor, smiling once more. "Just you wait! We're not stoppin' 'til I've got the Dragon of Dojima in tip - top shape!" 

"...Right," Kiryu sighs again. 

"Until next time, Kiryu - chan!" Majima waves. He turns around and practically skips down the street, a light, bouncy spring in his step. He calls down the street, raising an arm over his head, "You better be ready for some more fun!" 

Kiryu watches him go and suddenly feels so, so exhausted. He should drop by Stardust, he thinks, see how Yuya and Kazuki are doing. Maybe he can clean himself up a little bit once he gets there; he grimaces when he notices fake blood stained against white fabric, the cleaning bill looming in his mind. He sets a cigarette in his mouth before pulling out his phone. 

"Hey, Kiryu - san." Yuya answers, energetic as ever. Kiryu carefully holds his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he grabs his lighter, cupping his hand around the weak flame. Yuya continues, "What's up?" 

"I'm going to swing by Stardust." He thinks for a moment and takes a long drag, taking his phone in his hand again. He turns and heads towards the main road, the few scarce passerby steering clear of him. He's pretty used to it by now. "Do you guys have any vinegar?" 

"Eh? Maybe..." He says, in a way that tells him they probably don't. Kiryu stops on the main street and turns towards the Don Quijote. He can imagine the confusion on his face as he mumbles, deep in thought. "But, what could you need that for..?" 

"It's a long story." 

"Are you gonna tell it when you get here?" Kiryu makes a grunt of approval. Yuya chuckles, and Kiryu's reminded of why he's a host. "Guess I'll get us some drinks, then. Kazuki - san'll wanna hear too." 

"Alright. I'll see you there." 

Kiryu puts his phone away as he steps into Don Quijote and is immediately greeted with a terrified look from the clerk behind the counter. He gives him a polite nod and heads back into the shelves, tension slowly turning into soreness. Music plays cheerfully over the store speakers. Kiryu wanders until he finds a bottle of white vinegar. 

"H - here you go, sir." The cashier stutters, ringing him up with continued apprehension. He hands his bag over the counter with a shaking hand, glancing down at the red splattered on Kiryu's neck, lapel, and sleeves. "Have a nice night..." 

Kiryu sighs. "You too."


	9. Majima Everywhere - Rank A

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one took so long! i just picked up dragon quest recently, so i've been very distracted...  
> thank you for reading regardless! i hope you enjoy this chapter :]

"I just wanted to apologize, Kiryu - san, about the boss and the young master..." Nishida mumbles over the phone, sounding like his usual, anxious self. Kiryu recalls his last call with muted displeasure, since Takayuki and Majima still continue to put on their zombie act to harass him. He hums his acceptance, eyeing a now - faint stain on his sleeve. "Still, the boss is really dedicated this time... I don't think he's going to leave you alone..." 

"It's fine," Kiryu says, and his brain slowly catches up to his mouth. When did he even become so okay with all this? When did Majima's presence suddenly become expected, when did each encounter with Takayuki him fit into the place in his mind right beside his time spent with Haruka? He clears his throat. "I've gotten pretty used to him following me around town." 

"Ah, speaking of that -" Nishida completely changes topics, even though they've barely breached the previous one. Kiryu is thankful for the change nonetheless. "Kiryu - san, you ride in taxis, right? Don't you take them all over, even for short distances?" 

"...Yes? Did Majima - san tell you to lecture me about emissions or something?" 

"N - no, it's nothing like that! It's just," He stammers. Kiryu feels kind of bad for getting him worked up so often. But then he remembers that Nishida is the middleman for most of Majima's schemes and already feels a little less bad about it, even if Nishida probably doesn't have much of a choice. "I was just thinking about how convenient taxis are. In fact, I think I might go take one right now!" 

Kiryu has no idea what he's talking about. "...Okay?" 

"Well, I'll see you, Kiryu - san!" Kiryu hears someone whispering in the background just as Nishida hangs up. Once again, he's left with newfound apprehension - calls from Nishida almost always promise one of Majima's new tricks. He better be careful if he's planning on taking a taxi. 

Kiryu forgets this mental warning throughout the course of the day; maybe he's just been in one too many fights, or took too many hits to the head, or is just ignoring his own advice because he doesn't really care what Majima's going to pull. He walks up to the taxi that's always down near the Children's Park and the driver rolls down the window. 

"The base fare starts at six hundred and sixty yen. Where would you like to go, sir?" He says, tipping his head forward enough that his eyes, and most of his face, are hidden by the rim of his hat. Kiryu gives him his destination and the man nods, the side door popping open. "Very well." 

Kiryu manages to relax a little in the backseat, despite the annoying eighties pop song playing a little too loud on the radio. It's something Majima would probably listen to, he thinks. With that thought he eyes the rearview mirror with a little suspicion; yet two brown eyes glance up back at him, allaying his worries. Besides, Majima can't really drive, can he? Not legally, at least. 

Something smacks into the side of the cab while its stopped in the middle of heavy traffic. Speak of the devil. 

"Hey hey, Kiryu - chan! Ya got room for one more?" Majima shouts as he forces his way inside the taxi and plops down heavy in the seat beside Kiryu, leaning back and spreading his legs until their knees touch. He then immediately lurches forward onto the passenger seat and smacks the driver on the shoulder, leather patting loud against the fabric of his uniform. "Step on it, cabbie! You know where I'm goin'!" 

The driver, oddly compliant, nods. "Of course, sir." 

"And here I thought Nishida wasn't obvious enough!" Majima laughs, flopping back against the seat. He takes up the rest of the leg room and slumps further and further down into his seat, completely ignoring his seatbelt. "But ya took the bait, huh? Looks like yer along for the ride." 

"I hadn't expected you to -" Kiryu stops himself. Breaking into a taxi isn't even close to the worst thing Majima's done to get at him, and knowing him, he'll probably manage some higher offense within the day. Kiryu folds his arms and looks out the window. "Nevermind." 

"Aw, don't be like that! Driver, you just keep yer eyes on the road." Majima waves. His cheery disposition immediately drops as he whips his knife out of his jacket and out of its sheath. He presses it against Kiryu's stomach, pinning red fabric beneath it. He growls in a low, quiet voice, "Yer lucky I ain't gonna be able to use this. Otherwise you'd be runnin' the risk of me guttin' ya like a fish if ya don't give it your all." 

"You'll be going all out, then?" Kiryu says, unresponsive to the blade poking dull into the skin and fat right above where his kidney lies, poking too dull to draw blood. Majima chuckles under his breath. 

"You bet. Yer gettin' so, so close," He whispers, voice sounding borderline euphoric. He adjusts his grip on the hilt, leather against laminate, his thumb riding up the back of the blade. "Not quite there yet, no way in hell, but soon you'll be the dragon I remember." 

"If you're going to give your all," Kiryu pauses. The knife presses a little harder into his shirt, the wrinkles in the fabric deepening, intensifying. Majima's black, thin eye bores a hole straight through him and right down to his core. "Then why won't you use your knife?" 

"I'm sure I told ya already, but in case ya forgot -" Majima twists the knife one last time, still not doing any real damage. He withdraws his weapon and quietly tucks it back into its sheath and back into his jacket, resting his fists against the seat. He glances up to the driver, then back to Kiryu. "Takkun don't like knives, so I'm not about t'just whip one out, seein' as he probably wouldn't take it too well." 

"What does he have to do with..." 

"We're here." The driver politely interjects. He reaches over and the side door swings open, and Majima quickly hops out. The driver adjusts the mirror so that his eyes land on Kiryu, staring back at him. There's two studs pierced just above his brow, barely visible beneath the rim of his hat. "I suggest you join him, sir. He arranged this special for you." 

"Arranged what?" Kiryu asks. The driver doesn't answer, and instead nods towards the window. 

Kiryu steps outside to find himself on the pier off the Tokyo Bay. How they even got here without him noticing, he'll probably never understand. The breaking into the taxi was just the prelude - this must be the main event. 

"What the hell are we even doing here?" He asks. Majima cackles, reeling back and splaying out his arms. His knife, as promised, does not make an appearance. 

"Ya got no choice, Kiryu - chan! Ya can fight me, and Takkun there'll drive you back," His voice drops low as he takes up his stance, grinning devilishly. Kiryu mentally groans when he finally realizes who the driver is; his displeasure intesifies when he realizes that said driver is standing right behind him, leaning against the cab. Majima continues, "Or we can leave ya here to walk all the way back to Kamurocho. Should only take ya, hm... a few days, tops." 

"So this is your "reason" to make me fight you?" He sighs. 

"Hell yeah it is!" Majima laughs. "Not a bad reason either, is it?" 

"But why here?" He asks. Majima's face suddenly turns serious, his smile dropping, all false pretense of joy completely gone. 

"If I'm gonna have a fight with a dragon, I don't wanna be interrupted. This place's perfect for just that!" He drawls, raising an arm and gesturing around the span of the pier in one long, fluid movement. "Blocked off every road to the pier with a sheer wall of Majima! No way in hell anybody's gettin' out here." 

Kiryu shakes his head. "You really are going all out." 

"I'm a man of my word! Now, question is," Majima lowers his stance and raises his fist. He draws his mouth in a firm line, eyeing Kiryu with his dark, hungry gaze. "Are you?" 

"I don't really have a choice." 

"Damn right ya don't. Best give it yer all," He chuckles and it doesn't reach his eyes. Kiryu eyes him closely and takes his own stance up, slowly circling. Suddenly Majima tenses and bares his teeth, hollering like a madman, "Else they'll find you floatin' in the bay!' 

Like some sacred rule, unspoken and still yet to be breached, Majima makes the first move. He lunges, two knuckles lashing out; Majima moves forward and Kiryu steps back, their deadly dance honed to a fatal precision with time and practice. Yet Majima moves differently, in a way Kiryu's never been on the business end of. 

So this is the real mad dog. 

Majima presses the attack, swinging wildly but controlled, unpredictable but calculated. Kiryu slips between one hand, raises an arm to guard against the next blow - but Majima knows Kiryu just as well as Kiryu knows him and feints, driving a fist into his stomach. He takes Kiryu's head in his hands and drives his knee into his face once, twice. Kiryu grabs him by the leg before he can get in a third. 

Majima tries to twist out of his hold, bring his free leg up towards Kiryu's head - Kiryu raises his shoulder and his ankle glances off of. He moves his hold up closer to Majima's hips, lifts him up, and forces him onto the ground. He plants his knee firm on top of his chest, leaning forward over him. Kiryu pants, chest heaving. He knows the fight isn't over. 

"Ya slipped up back there," Majima wheezes, breathless beneath Kiryu's weight. He raises his legs, his metal heels scraping against the asphalt. Majima slowly snakes leather fingers beneath the curve of Kiryu's knee. "Still, not bad. Wouldn't say yer at your best, though -!" 

Majima pushes him off balance enough to wriggle out from beneath him. Kiryu rests back on his leg for a moment before standing, wiping the blood from his nose with his thumb. Adrenaline keeps him from feeling the sting of the swelling against his hand. 

"Sometimes it feels like," He pants, now breathing through his mouth. He doesn't ache so much as burn, every breath dry, sweat filming across his skin. He swallows. "No matter how strong I get, you'll always want stronger." 

"What can I say, I got refined tastes!" He smiles, sounding proud of himself. He's similarly out of breath, thankfully, which is a good sign. He shrugs, "Not my fault I ain't easily satisfied." 

Kiryu feels Takayuki's watchful eyes on them. Suddenly the banter, the way Majima handles himself, everything - suddenly the whole situation somehow becomes so much more embarrassing than it ever would be usually. 

Majima rushes forward, and before Kiryu can stop him they're standing nose to nose, a leather fist deep in his shirt. Majima gives it a tug, thumb running along one of his buttons as he laughs, murmuring, "Ohhhh. Not in front of the kid, huh?" 

Kiryu grabs the collar of Majima's jacket and headbutts him, their temples getting quickly and violently acquainted. 

Majima stumbles back, arms pinwheeling. He pauses for one painfully long moment, still leaning back, before rocking forward and lurching towards him again. Kiryu lowers his stance with a stomp Majima goes to collide with him and Kiryu catches him around the midsection and pulls their chests together, their meeting marked with a satsifying pop. 

He lets Majima go and the mad dog flops to the ground without further fanfare. 

"Alright, ya got me. Ouughh," Majima groans, rolling his head to one side. Kiryu, still breathing heavy, says nothing. He rests his hands on his knees and pauses to catch his breath. Majima looks up at him without lifting the rest of his body off the ground, "That mighta felt good, if I was ten years younger." 

"Sorry." 

"No worries!" Majima croons, though now it sounds a little strained. He sits himself up slowly, then stands, supporting a hand against his back. He pats Kiryu on the shoulder, sort of hobbling his way over to the taxi. "Well, ya won fair n' square. Let's get you back home to that shithole." 

Kiryu mostly ignores that last comment about Kamurocho - some part of his pride stings at that, even though it's true. "Right." 

"So," Takayuki quickly assesses Majima's condition and must decide there's nothing to worry about, because he doesn't mention it at all. He shrugs and opens the door to the cab, and Majima slowly slips inside. Takayuki leans over and asks, almost expectantly, "Can I stop going easy on him now?" 

"Like I said, he ain't quite there yet." Majima huffs. He shuffles across to the opposite seat. "So lay off a little bit longer, will ya?" 

"Fine." Kiryu swears he sees him roll his eyes as he steps away from the door and towards the driver's side. He takes his hat off and shakes his head, trying to fix his hair and mostly failing. Tangled curls fall lackluster around his ears. He motions towards the still open door, sighing, "Come on in, Kiryu - san. Pops is in no shape to be waiting around." 

It's odd, the way this feels almost domestic. Kiryu steps into the little invisible bubble they inhabit and shuts the door behind him. 

The streetlights roll past outside the window along the highway. Majima almost immediately passes out in his seat next to him, folded in an awkward position, quietly snoring. Kiryu considers moving him upright but eventually leaves him - it's not his place to intervene, even if it's just letting Majima get a stiff neck. Takayuki drives at the limit and follows his road laws. Somehow that's the most surprising thing about him. 

"We're here. And Kiryu - san?" Takayuki watches him get out. Kiryu tiredly leans over beside the driver side window. Takayuki rests his hands on the wheel, gloves long discarded, dark ink dancing up his knuckles and playing at the base of his fingers. "Legends are always based in reality. Soon you might finally be someone the boss is worthy of fighting." 

Takayuki takes out a familiar white button and turns it over in his hand. The plastic shines dull in the streetlight overhead. 

"And maybe this will finally be worth something," He says, calmly - too calm. He pockets his trophy once more and turns back to Kiryu, dark, round eyes staring through him. Takayuki switches back to his customer service voice with a small, mischievous grin. "You have a nice night." 

Kiryu silently watches the yellow body of the taxi roll out onto the main road and disappear in traffic.


	10. Majima Everywhere - Rank S

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright, this one's a little short, but it's mostly just setting up what's coming up next. we're in the home stretch! i'm hoping to finish this one up soon  
> thanks to everyone who's read this far!! :]

"Hello, Kiryu - san. It's Nishida," Kiryu doesn't even have to look at the caller ID anymore; nobody calls him as much as Nishida does, not even Date. He answers every time, mostly out of courtesy. He's not sure he wants to think about the other reasons he answers. Nishida is oblivious to this mental show of strength. "I, uh, think I know what you're going to say." 

Kiryu sighs. "Wasn't the last time the end of all this?" 

"That's... what I thought you'd say. But hear me out!" Kiryu, despite himself, doesn't hang up. Somehow Nishida's earnest, shy attitude - a severe contrast to Majima and Takayuki's dispositions - is enough to lower his guard. Maybe that's why Majima keeps him around in the first place. "I just called to pass along some information. A rumor, from West Park." 

"A rumor?" 

"You haven't heard of it?" Nishida says, in a way that makes Kiryu feel like he should've. Nishida must take his silence as an answer. He continues, "Well, rumor has it that two demons appear in West Park at night. And - if they look at you long enough, they'll steal your soul!" 

"Two demons..." Kiryu doesn't have to think very long to figure it out. "It's Majima - san and Takayuki - kun, isn't it?" 

"Wh - what? Why would you insinuate that?! We -!" Nishida's voice, flustered, goes up a pitch or two, crackling against the reciever. Kiryu takes his phone away from his ear until he's sure he won't go deaf and slowly, hesitantly returns it to its place. He catches the end of a sentence, the rest garbled by distance and volume, " - atmosphere for this one!" 

"Calm down." Nishida obliges and falls silent. Kiryu sighs. It's pretty early into the evening, but late enough that he shouldn't have much to do. He rests a hand on his hip and leans his head a little to one side. "You want me to check out these rumors, don't you." 

"Well... the homeless there are all terrified." Nishida says, right back to being earnest. Something tells him Majima keeps house with some pretty skilled manipulators; either that, or Nishida really is always this nervous. With Majima involved, it's probably the latter. "I think you could, um. Help set them at ease a little." 

"...Fine." He relents. If anything, Majima'll probably just jump out of the bushes and try to kick his ass. "I'll go see if I have time." 

"Th - thank you, Kiryu - san!" Nishida cries out, relieved. For some reason, Kiryu thinks he would've felt guilty if he turned him down. He can imagine Nishida ducking his head low, bent at the waist, open hands held tight against his sides. Nishida's voice drops to a low whisper, "You have no idea what you just saved me from..." 

"What was that?" 

"Aah -! Nothing!" Nishida backtracks. Kiryu swears he can hear a low voice on the other end of the line, and Nishida furiously whispering back to them. Somehow every encounter with the Majima family seems vaguely conspiratorial. Maybe their patriarch is just rubbing off on them. "A - anyway, thanks again, Kiryu - san! I've gotta go!" 

"Right..." 

Kiryu sighs and tucks his phone away. It's been dark for hours, the sun's usual schedule lax during wintertime. If he plans on heading to West Park - which he does, because he always plays along with Majima's stupid staging - he better be prepared. Even if he's gotten stronger, the mad dog's been pulling less and less of his punches. Going in careless might mean coming out beaten to a pulp. 

He checks his pockets and finds only his phone, a staminan, and a handful of loose change. Without a second thought, he starts heading up the street towards Purgatory. 

The park is surprisingly empty, and as a result, surprisingly quiet. Kiryu gives the place a quick glance as he walks around the outside path and realizes that there's no one here at all. The silence is eerie. The trees do not rustle; not even a bird chirps. 

Suddenly, someone laughs - but it's different from Majima's maniacal cackling. Kiryu looks all around him until he notices a figure emerging from the trees, a white mask over his face. The laughing reaches a peak and slowly begins to die down, breathy and dry, and the figure, with leaning posture and wide strides, comes into view. 

The mask is a bird, with huge eyes and small pupils, furrowed brows carved into its forehead. The figure himself is dressed in a black tuxedo, the jacket closed but his shirt open far enough to show a thin gold chain hanging over the line of his collarbone. He tilts his head up enough so that Kiryu can see him smiling, deranged. 

"Majima - san..?" Kiryu takes a step back. The bird mask follows him, metal soles of his shoes clicking on the concrete. 

He laughs again, then murmurs, darkly, "Behind you." 

Kiryu turns to find another suited figure standing behind him, blocking his path. This one's mask is a hannya, familiar to one he's seen in ink instead of physical form, and the left eye of the mask is blacked out. The hannya stands upright and tall, arms folded behind his back. At the edge of his mask, his mouth is drawn in a firm line. 

"Who -?" Kiryu turns to look back at the bird masked man, but no one's there anymore. Suddenly the hannya swings at him with a grunt, fist landing firm in his side and hooking up towards his center. He stumbles forward and raises his own fists, whipping around to face his opponent. 

"Don't get distracted, now." The bird mask's voice says, though he's nowhere to be seen. He laughs harder than before, like something's funny. Something fear - adjacent jumps up into Kiryu's throat. "Else you won't be leaving with your soul intact." 

Every question Kiryu has gets pushed to the back of his mind as the hannya lunges forward, aiming for his eyes. Kiryu blocks his hand but then he slips behind him, a sinewy, muscular arm wrapping around his throat; Kiryu struggles against his grip until he feels his neck pop and his body go light, like it's been disconnected from his head. He staggers out of his grasp and barely manages to stay upright. 

Kiryu changes his stance the moment feeling starts to fully come back into his legs, shifting light onto his feet. The hannya swipes again and Kiryu slides just out of his reach. He punches faster, lighter, pushes himself to out of necessity. The masked man's every move is heavy and quick but easy to read, every motion carefully defined. 

He's going easy on him, in a way. Kiryu keeps his momentum and weaves between blows while still managing some of his own. Skill and strength marry together in a display of speed and raw power, and for the first time in a while, fighting feels good again. 

Kiryu plants his fist in the masked man's stomach, landing the final blow. The man staggers back but stays upright and then suddenly straightens, assuming his previous polite posture. He folds his hands behind him, gives Kiryu a curt bow, and then walks away as if nothing happened. 

Kiryu stands there, out of breath and in disbelief. Something taps him on the shoulder - he turns to find the bird mask standing there once more. He smiles wide enough to reveal pointed teeth and a gold piercing on his lip. 

"He didn't want to push you too hard." The masked man says cheerfully. Somehow this level of dark enthusiasm is discomforting on anyone but Majima. The masked man shrugs, "Said it would ruin the fun of it." 

"Who... are you?" Kiryu asks. He gets another laugh in response. 

"That would ruin the fun too, stupid," He sighs, posture exaggerated, his whole act so fake to the point that it's surreal. Yet his laugh is so real and tangible, and it strikes something in the back of Kiryu's chest in a way he can't ignore. "Ah, but there'll always be next time. We'll be seeing a lot more of each other, you know." 

"That so?" 

"Yup. So you better get your beauty sleep, old man." The masked man pats him on the arm, still grinning. It does nothing to ease that thing in the back of Kiryu's chest - if anything, it might just make it worse. He chuckles one last time and turns to follow his hannya friend, waving, "He wants to see you at your best, especially if he's the last thing you see." 

Oddly enough, the threat clings to him. Kiryu swallows what must be apprehension long enough to ease open the staminan in his pocket and down half of it. It's sticky sweet and lukewarm and does very little to actually make him feel better. He pulls a cigarette out of the crushed carton in his back pocket and lights it, letting out a quick breath of smoke. 

Kiryu does the only thing he can think to do, standing here smoking in the middle of the evening, having encountered those two; reluctantly, he calls Nishida. 

"I found your demons." He says before Nishida can even answer. Kiryu takes his cigarette from his mouth and sighs, letting out another thin trail, smoke lit by barrel fires and the end of his cigarette. "They seem pretty fixated on me now, so they shouldn't cause any trouble for the homeless here anymore." 

"Th... thank you, Kiryu - san." Nishida sounds relieved. If only that were enough to make this worth it, he thinks, but somehow it inches closer to being so. "Sorry I put you in this position..." 

"It's fine. I went here on my own." The bird mask's advice rings somewhere in the back of his mind. "Look, I've gotta go. I'll see you around." 

"Ah - okay! Have a good night, Kiryu - san!" 

"You too." 

Kiryu tucks his phone away and tiredly makes his way to the abandoned restrooms near the park's edge, shouldering open the door, his head half cast to the ground. Staring down at the dirt as he walks outside and back into Kamurocho, he notices a familiar pair of snakeskin, steel toed shoes. 

"Yo, Kiryu - chan." Majima says nonchalantly, cigarette hanging between two gloved fingers. Majima cocks his head at him, pursing his lips to one side. "You doin' okay? Ya look like ya seen a ghost." 

"...It's nothing to worry about." He sighs. 

"Like hell it is! Look, I'm bored here. Why doncha come with me," Majima smiles softly. He drops his cigarette and crushes it beneath his heel, then wraps an arm around Kiryu's back and pulls him against his side. "Lemme buy you a round, getcha somethin' to eat. There's a cheap sushi place down by Bantam." 

Something in Kiryu softens at Majima's intervention. Kiryu jokes, dryly, "I'm only worth cheap sushi?" 

"I ain't made a money, an' neither're you!" Majima exaggerates his tone, sounding overly insulted as he puts a hand against his chest. Fooling around like this, Kiryu realizes why Majima is such a comforting presence at times. If only his comfort were more consistent, he mentally complains. Majima, unable to read his mind, continues, "Sides, you look like you need some garbage food and a decent drink. We can get some convenience store booze an' split the bottle." 

"That doesn't sound bad." Kiryu says, and he means it. Majima grins and gives him a little affectionate shake. 

"Thatta boy! Now c'mon," He cheers, attracting the attention of the few pedestrians and handful of drunks still wandering at this hour. Majima directs them towards the street, taking wide, excited strides. "Let's get somethin' in ya." 

Like always, Kiryu lets him lead, and like always, he feels strangely at peace in this intimate, oddly domestic moment.


End file.
